Kirk's shirt was stained by now, and McCoy didn't want to leave the warmth of the man's embrace. Never had he felt such tenderness from his Kirk, and he could count on one hand the times anyone else had shown him any. If Kirk hadn't gently pulled away, McCoy would have remained like that. The physical attention felt good, but by now it was hardwired in his brain to accept whatever the captain did. A bit of fighting or struggling beforehand was fine, but in the end, the captain, the sovereign of the ship, always got his way.
For all McCoy knew, the same unspoken rule could apply in this universe, so it was best not to take any chances.
But Kirk did let him go, and made no further move for him. While McCoy wiped his eyes and leaned against his desk, Kirk ruffled his hair and sighed.
"I'm sorry, Captain," McCoy said softly. He still didn't know what he'd done to have caused such a reaction from Kirk, but he knew how to sound sincere enough to cover anything. The addition of a polite title couldn't hurt, either.
"I want you to take some time off, Bones," Kirk said, a gentle look to his face. "I'd like your senior staff to take a look at--"
McCoy waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, I can assess myself."
A small sigh escaped the captain, and he waited a moment before saying, "I want you back, Bones."
McCoy looked up, jaw tightening. "Just give me some time, James," he answered. He'd understood what Kirk had meant, but something in the way he said it discomforted him. "Just...just trust me to get back on my own feet, my own way."
Kirk gave a very small smile and nodded. "There's no time limit," he said. "M'Benga and Chapel will take over for you until you're ready." McCoy nodded and Kirk started to leave. At the door, he paused and looked back. "O, and, it's a small thing, but..."
"Yes?"
"I'd prefer it if you go back to 'Jim.'" He grinned, a touch of color rising to his face. "You sound like a professor."
"Of course, Jim," McCoy laughed nervously. "I guess my brain's really frazzled right now!"
As soon as Kirk left, McCoy collapsed onto his chair, shaking all over. He cursed himself for his stupidity, although he knew there would not have been any way to know such a detail. There was no way to know any details, small or vital, unless he took the risk of finding them out for himself.
What would happen if they realized, he wondered. Could they send him back? Did such technology even exist? Any theories that even hinted to the existence of parallel universes were rarely taken seriously where he was from; he himself could hardly believe what had happened.
If they couldn't send him back, then McCoy couldn't imagine what they would do. But the captain had seen the world McCoy was from; Kirk would understand the danger of it spilling into his own world.
McCoy was about to take a drink, but refrained. He decided to wait until the night cycle began, when he had a better chance of being alone and uninterrupted. Going too long without a drop was out of the question, but he could at least hold off while he still needed his wits about him.
He wrote up a brief message to send electronically to his staff, telling them he was going off duty for a while. It amused him a bit to find that it was just as easy to navigate his counterpart's computer as if it were his own.
He thought about his other self for a moment, but not for long. The thought was vague and depressing, and made him feel guilty for some reason, and that guilt in turn made him angry. For all intents and purposes, that other McCoy was an entirely different person; he had no responsibility over a stranger. And besides, McCoy told himself as he took what he needed from the office, if that other one was not strong enough to adapt, then anything that happened to him was his own damn fault.
/////
For the next few hours McCoy wandered the passageways. He greeted anyone who greeted him, adjusting the level of his smile to match the one he received, but he felt anything but warmth. He was still on his guard, although he'd relaxed considerably as he met more and more people that did not try to attack him. Idly he nagged himself that his carelessness could get him killed.
Even though he'd seen enough evidence that life here was quite different, he still felt the same way about the people he knew closely. If Kirk were to pull him to the side right now, McCoy would instantly expect to be taken to his quarters, and he would submit because he was simply not in the mood to fight. If he were to come across Scott, he'd expect an abusive, half drunken speech about pride and dignity and all the reasons why he didn't have any and why he should step down from duty and resign himself as a slave right now. McCoy grimaced just thinking about it.
And if he saw Spock...McCoy decided to stop brooding and just try to observe as much he could before drinking himself to stupification in his quarters later on.
A slender blond woman came down the passageway, and McCoy froze in his tracks. There was something oddly familiar about her, although he couldn't recognize any of the obvious details, like her hair or clothes. If perhaps her hair were down, her shoulders bare...
The realization came as a great shock. Yeoman Rand noticed this as she got closer, and she went to take hold of McCoy's arm gently. "Doctor!" she exclaimed. "Are you ok?"
"Just heartburn," he said with a lopsided, mirthless grin. He would have said her name as well, if he could remember it. It was probably not a good idea to call her what he would have in his own universe.
Her hand was gentle on his shoulder. "You looked like you've seen a ghost!" she said. "Scared me half to death!"
"Sorry about that. But, that's why I'm off to bed!"
Her smile put him at unusual ease, and she left. Once again he launched an attack on himself for slipping up; just that simple display of emotion could have gotten him in trouble. But what she had said was true, except the in the opposite way. The Rand he was familiar with was the ghost, compared to how she appeared here.
He'd had enough adventures for one night, he decided. From the second the door closed behind him, he was drinking. His mind raced with the evidence of a new way of life arguing against the things he'd experienced for so many years. Hours passed, bottles were emptied, and the doctor was still no closer to deciding how safe he should feel before finally passing out in what was now his bed.
////
Another hypo smashed into the wall, with the satisfying release of aggression, however small, burning through him. He'd woken up with a splitting headache and a horrible nausea, and despite numerous injections, he didn't feel much better. That would be another thing he'd have to get used to here, the poor quality and slowness of the drugs. That and the fact that his counterpart didn't have the foresight to keep his quarters stocked with enough pain killers and electrolytes to kill the usual hangover.
Grumbling at the pain that remained, McCoy cooled off in the shower. It was relaxing to know that nothing was expected of him today, or the next day, if he wanted to take that much time off. Overall McCoy felt fit enough to pick off from where the stranger with the same name left off, but that wasn't the problem. He had to become the Leonard McCoy that had been expelled from this world, and he had to immerse himself in that man's life to do it. It was safe to sit on the sidelines and observe, but he wouldn't learn anything that way.
He got dressed and almost forgot again that his uniform did not include a sash. Just another thing to like about this place.
The halls were alive with activity, and it nearly overwhelmed him. He felt a bit better about being around so many people, but the age old fear stuck around like a shadow he couldn't shake. He wondered if he'd ever stop doubting himself, if he'd ever truly let go of his constant anxiety.
A bit lightheaded, McCoy slipped into the rec room to rest until he calmed down. In his carelessness, he hadn't noticed Spock at the other end of the room, lute in his lap. When he did see him, by just happening to lift his head, he shuddered with a flash of panic, but he didn't leave. He told himself over and over that he probably did not have any reason to fear this Spock, and that fleeing now would only increase suspicion.
He tried to hide that he was watching Spock say something quiet into Uhura's ear, and fought to keep from jumping to his feet when she walked right past him and out into the hall. His pulse quickened as Spock came over to him.
"May I sit?"
McCoy was entirely too friendly in his nervousness. "Go ahead! I was just taking a quick rest, actually..."
"Stay for just a moment, Doctor," Spock entreated. "Please." His voice was soft, but his expression blank.
McCoy shook his head and smirked in an impatient way. He flicked his eyes onto Spock's, but didn't fully look him in the eye. "Look, I understand you're worried about me, but I'm going to be fine."
"I know that you will not be unless you speak to someone," Spock pressed. He sounded slightly stern, or at least that's how McCoy took it.
"And that someone should be you?" he sneered, testing him. He was readying himself for defense if it came to it, but his rudeness didn't seem to affect the Vulcan. So, bolder, he tested again, "Because you're the one to go to for any emotional help, huh?"
Spock exhaled slightly louder and paused. "If my alternate self harmed you, it is imperative we discuss it, Doctor," he said. McCoy sniffed derisively. "I don't want you to fear me because of what he may have done to you."
His foot tapping with obvious impatience, McCoy cast his eyes to Spock's. Spock folded his hands together on the table top, but otherwise showed nothing that McCoy could discern. Once again that urge to drive a response from the Vulcan ate at him. He remembered that he was sitting with his back to the door, so he could be the first out of this room if he had to escape.
McCoy had to know where he stood with this man. "You have to give me some Godamn time, Vulcan," he hissed, almost spitting that last word. "If you wanna know so fucking bad what he did, why don't you just find out for yourself?"
By now McCoy could tell he was getting a rise out of Spock. The Spock of this world was doing an incredible job of hiding it, though, he had to give him that. Spock cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, and McCoy took that as a small victory. "How would you have me do that?" he asked.
McCoy scoffed and rolled his eyes. As irritated as he seemed, McCoy felt exhilarated. It was such a rush to speak like this to Spock and get away with it, and the knowledge that at any second the Vulcan could break down and throttle him only added to the thrill. This was fun.
In answer to Spock's question, McCoy leaned over the table, heart racing at how close he was putting himself to potential danger. "Don't be coy with me," he sneered. He then clasped his hands together and lifted his chin, eyes closing. "You really wanna know, just go on and find out, don't ask me stupid questions."
Spock was leaning back in his chair when McCoy peeked one eye open. Although this Spock was far better at repressing emotions, he looked horrified in his subtle way. "I do not find that humorous, Doctor," he said.
McCoy leaned back in his chair too, honestly confused now. If Spock were to perform the mind meld as expected, then McCoy had planned to send him violent images, drawn from his own memories, to distract him from finding out the truth, but convince him that they were the truth. He was banking on the idea that this Spock would be disturbed enough to break the meld before he dug too deep.
But there he was, once again having offended someone without knowing how. "What? I'm not trying to make a joke, Spock."
"This is precisely why I have been encouraging you to talk about what happened," Spock said, rather tightly. "I can understand your human need to lash out at me because of--"
"Godammit, you half-breed imbecile," McCoy growled, grabbing Spock's hands. Elbows and wrists banged on the table as McCoy fought to pull Spock's hands closer. "Just get it over with and leave me the fuck alone!"
Spock finally wrenched his hands free and got up from the table so abruptly he knocked the chair down. His eyes came alive with that wildness McCoy was used to, and he said with cold calmness, "You are behaving irrationally, Doctor. Abusing me will not heal whatever damage has been done to you. I have tried to be a friend to you, but--"
A voice on the intercom interrupted him. "Red alert. All hands to battle-stations. Red alert."
Without a second glance Spock left the rec room, leaving McCoy painfully stressed. He was sure that he could have remained in there or hidden in his state room for the duration, but he chose to head up to the bridge for some welcome distraction.
/////
As he exited the turbo lift, Uhura was trying to hail someone. A small shuttle of familiar design was on the view screen, and McCoy couldn't help but wonder just what the problem was. From what he could gather from the ragged appearance of the shuttle, and from the snatches of conversation amongst the crew, McCoy guessed that the ship they'd encountered merely needed help. No need for a red alert, he thought.
"Captain, I've received an answer," Uhura said, and Kirk ordered for visual.
The view of the shuttle changed to that of the interior, and McCoy narrowed his eyes. A young looking man with skin so pale it glowed ashen green was leaning on a railing, accompanied by a few others as ragged as he. The sight of this man had always been an annoyance. McCoy checked Kirk's face and was startled to see the captain so tense. In fact everyone looked grim.
"Captain," the man on the screen entreated. "We mean no harm. I'm asking for your help. Our ship is badly damaged, the crew needs medical attention--"
"Enemy wessel has dropped shields, Sir," Chekov whispered, and Kirk nodded. McCoy felt his heart race. Enemy? The two captains spoke further, but McCoy barely paid attention as he tried to figure this situation out.
"As your scanners must surely reveal, Captain, we are at your mercy," the man said, quickly, as if he were expecting something to happen any second. "I give you my word, on the life of my crew that we mean no harm."
"This is Federation space," Kirk said.
"Yes, I know, Sir. We knew the risk before undertaking this journey, but for the purpose of peace, I give you my word. Our shields are down, and your scanners must show that our weapons are disabled. Please, we can discuss this on board your vessel if it pleases you."
Kirk looked to Spock, who was hunched over his monitor. "That is correct, Captain. Ship's battery at ten percent, not enough to cause significant damage." Spock's eyes met McCoy's for a second, but his expression didn't change. It was as if he hadn't seen him.
McCoy, standing close to Kirk's chair, watched as Kirk gave the orders to the transporter room and for security to report there. Something's seriously wrong, he thought.
"We'll beam you and your crew aboard," Kirk said. "And I'm sorry, but I never did get your name."
The man visibly relaxed, and even smiled. "I must have forgotten to introduce myself. It's Dorek."